Speak in Tongues
by BleedinRosez3928
Summary: Not your average modern Beauty and the Beast tale. One man is breaking down. Another man is already broken. Can two people from opposite points of views, who seem to despise each other, come together as one? Starring: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Jack Hotchner, J.J. Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Diana Reid, and Mrs. Strauss (other characters may be added)
1. Cold Encounter

_Author's Note: First, I apologize for not posting yesterday (Sometimes I suck at being punctual.) I wanted to write this story because I feel more confident in my writing and I getting used to the process (reading reviews, responding to reviews, editing, reading stories, etc….all at the same time.)_

_I would also like to thank __**RoseLaurel **__for helping me with the title Speak in Tongues._ :D

_What is the story about? Well, it__'s a modern__**, **__**Criminal Minds**__ version of __**The Beauty and the Beast**__. Now, before some of you start thinking: Is this going to be any good? Just know that I changed a few things. __**Spencer**__ is still our lovable, gorgeous genius, __**BUT**__ he is a dance teacher/former model/stripper (stripper thing was not his choice) (hence the Beauty) and __**Aaron**__ is the detached, lonely agent. _

_I look forward to comments/suggestions on the story._

_I'm a little nervous about the first chapter, but I think it's a good start. I hope you all like it._

_Chapter One: Cold Encounter_

"Mr. Hotchner, always a pleasure to see you."

"Hn. What did he do this time, Ms. Strauss?"

"Well…," the woman rose from her swivel chair, smoothed the creases of her dress, and motioned the man to follow her down the halls of the elementary school.

"I'm sorry that we had to contact you at such an inconvenient time, but I think that you and your son should see the counselor. This misbehavior just _cannot_ continue."

She looked behind her to see that the man was nodding. She frowned. Mr. Hotchner was always…detached. It was almost a routine. Jack Hotchner, son of the Agent Chief Aaron Hotchner from the FBI, Behavioral Analysis Unit, would pull some practical joke on either his fellow students or the teachers. In turn, Jack would be sent to the principal, Ms. Strauss, who would call his father. The relationship between father and son didn't seem as loving or dynamic as other relationships between parents and their children that walk in and out her school doors.  
They came to their destination, Classroom 14B. The principal unlocked the room door. The class room looked normal, until the agent was motioned to the instructor's chair. On it looked like a section of ripped, black dress pants.

"Um…"

"Your son thought it was funny to put super glue on the Mr. Lane's chair. It took two teachers to cut him out. He had to ask the nurse for a spare pair of pants."

She looked back at the parent of the child. He didn't seem _visibly_ upset.

"Where is he?"

"Mrs. Jareau is keeping him company. She is in room 20B; I'll be in my office if you need me."

*Page Break*

"Jack…wait up!" _Damn, this kid is fast!_

A _very_ pregnant blonde teacher was speed walking down the hallway in red pumps trying to get to one of her students. The 12 year old wanted to play Lego airplanes and before the game could start the kid disappeared.

_I knew I should've put on my slippers before I took my break._

She could hear music the closer she got. She finally saw Jack stop and turn into another room. She knew it was the room to the dance teacher, Spencer Reid.

*Page Break*

Spencer pressed stop on his IPhone. His skin was flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. The mirrors that held his reflection spread across from on wall to the other. His breathe fogged his own image. As he wiped away the fog he was staring at 10 year old, Jack Hotchner. His heart rose in his throat as he clutched his chest, head falling.

"You scare me every time." The young man chuckled to himself.  
"You should be used to my visits by now." The "delinquent" of the school dropped his backpack and walked over to his friend and tutor. He watched as the dance teacher unwrapped, thin white cloths from his hands and feet, throw them out, and dry the perspiration from his face with a small towel.

"What was that song that was playing?"  
"Exogenesis: Symphony Part One by Muse."

"I love Muse. I like their song _Supermassive Black Hole_, especially the line: _Glaciers melting in the dead of night. And the superstars sucked into the supermassive_. I used that song for my science project on black holes."

Spencer smiled. The child was considered a _problem_ by most teachers, but his knowledge of science and interest in how things worked showed.

"You shouldn't be here after school hours," a pause, "Did you prank someone _again_?"

Jack smiled, "It was a _joke_. The teachers don't see the humor." Jack sat pretzel style on the hard wood floor.

"Jack, you cannot continue to behave in this manner. You'll be suspended."

Spencer towered over the child, hands on his hips, a typical position that Jack had seen numerous times from multiple teachers. Jack rolled his eyes. _I don't care._

"Can we_ please_ skip the lectures about me and start on my homework?"

Spencer frowned a little, but complied. For a good month (and six days) Spencer had been tutoring the child in Math. It didn't seem to click for him as well as other kids, which was fine because he had Spencer to help him. Just as they two opened the 530 page _Math Skills_ textbook, an exhausted Mrs. Jareau entered the room.

"There you are. Hey Spencer." She waved, trying to find a seat.

"Hi. J.J. did you run all the way here from your classroom?"

Spencer frowned when he got a nod. Spencer shook his head.

"J.J."

"I know I know…I'm paying for it now, my feet are killing me!" She chuckled to herself, propping her feet on a nearby table. She watched as Spencer continued helping Jack with his homework. She smiled fondly. The two connected well. The boy was more…focused…calm, but she couldn't help, but notice the frown line on the child's forehead.

_Poor kid. _

In the distance she could hear footsteps. She poked her head out and saw what seemed to be her boss and the father of the child in the room. She waved them over.

"Hey! He's in here! He's fine!"

When they got close enough she opened the door for them.

"Jack..."

Jack grumbled then grabbed his things. He looked at his dad who didn't seem to happy._ Why is the old man always on my back?_

"Thanks, Mr. Reid. I'll see you on Monday."  
Spencer nodded.

Hotch stood by the door, arms crossed and face stoned, "Jack, we need to have a talk—"

"Yeah, whatever," Jack pushed past his father, heading out to the car.

Spencer frowned. He watched as Hotch composed himself and then caught his eyes. _They're so cold._ He took in all of the man. From the iron pressed, black suit newly shined shoes to his pale and dark hair, to the chiseled facial structure and permanent frown lines.

"I apologize…Jack can be…a _handful_ sometimes."

"It's okay. He's a good kid," Spencer offered, "He's excelling well in most of his classes."

Hotch seemed taken aback a little, but the expression was gone the second it came. Ms. Strauss exchanged looks of amusement with J.J. Spencer walked over to the father and held out a hand, "Hi, my name is Spencer Reid." Hotch seemed hesitant, but gave a firm shake. The handshake gave an unpleasant chill down Spencer's spine. He pursed his lips. _Something's not right about this man. _

"If you excuse me…Mr. Reid, I have business to take care of," he immediately left the room along with Ms. Strauss.

"J.J.?"

"Hm?"

"Why do I get the feeling that something's not right?"  
"Spencer, you over think things. He's a man with a lot on his mind and his son got in trouble with the principal, _again_. His reaction is expected."  
"I guess you're right…"

"Of course I am."

She kissed his cheek and walked out, "Hey, what about our plans for dinner tonight with Penelope?"

"Oh…um…tonight? I can't…I have to practice and…call my mom. I'm s—"

"I'm worried about you. You never have time to, you know _chill_."

"We can hang out later. I promise."

The blond crossed are arms.

"I _swear_."

"Alright, but if I get stood up your ass is mine." She growled playfully while giving her friend a hug before leaving.

"See you on Monday."

"Bye."

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair.

_-sigh- I have to talk to Kris. _

His night was just beginning.

_Author's Note: First chapter, check! Well, what do you think? ALL reviews are accounted for and appreciated. I may post the written trailer sometime later._

_Thanks! :D_


	2. The Unwanted Truth

_**Author's Note: I'm SO sorry for the delay everyone. My college classes are no joke! :/ I'll try to post another chapter next week, but this is all I'm able to do for now. I hope you all like it. Thanks for the reviews. You all are so sweet. I would like to mention you all (if I missed any of you, sorry)**_

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_**Oh, I'm still updating on **__The Void That Cries Through You, __**don't worry. A chapter is coming up soon.**_

_**Thanks to you all, again! **_

_**Enjoy. **_

_Chapter Two: The Unwanted Truth_

_140 dollars? This isn't enough. I have to pay my rent by the 27__th__ of February. _

Spencer still had to give Kris 60 percent of his pay. It was now 2 in the morning. He changed out of his "stripper clothes" and was currently counting his money, analyzing, and worrying. _Where the hell am I going to get the rest of the money from?_ He stared at his reflection in the mirror. It was going to take hours in order to get all the glitter out his hair. He could see faint fingerprints of men grabbing at him. It was Friday. They were always more costumers on Fridays (meaning more alcoholics, ass grabbing and perverted men.) Despite working here for four months, Spencer was never content with this job. But it was his way to survive. He was living in a rundown apartment building in the outskirts of New York. The oven was his makeshift heater and he had to boil his water to wash up.

His makeup was streaking.

His eyes were lined with black eye liner and dusted with glitter.

He felt like was at the bottom of a pit.

"Honey, the club is about to close, why are you still here?"

"I was leaving…"

Mia "Mimi" Sanchez. She was the only dancer that wasn't against him. In this business you had to fend for yourself, but Mimi was quick to console him, she saw—_knew_—what he was experiencing. She even taught him the secrets of how to make a man give you more money than he probably intended on giving the minute he stepped into the club. She also was gifted with an incredible body that she could manipulate seductively **on** and **off** the pole. Years of gymnastics do a girl good and maybe that's why the other dancers **reeked** of jealously as they watched her take all of the men's attention. Sometimes she offered to give Spencer half to help pay bills, but he always refused. He learned a long time ago that he had to be his own person, even if that meant rejecting something he needed.

She took a seat next to him. She had a few makeup wipes in her purse and used them to wipe off his makeup.

"I refuse to watch you destroy yourself. This business is going to eat you alive until you find the strength to leave—"

Spencer jerked back.

"Mia. I am not a child. I need this job."

She smiled softly, pushing a curl behind the young man's ear, "No you don't. You can find another job. You're smart, a talented dancer, you love kids. You're killing yourself—"

Spencer grabbed her hands and gently said, "I appreciate the advice, but it's unnecessary. I call you tomorrow."

Spencer grabbed his stilettos and duffel in one hand and began walking out to the main stage area when he heard what sounded like one of the dancers and his boss, arguing.

"You performed for 15 minutes. I told them to remove you. You seem to think you're unique and important to me. **No** performer is above the other."

Kris Knight. A man you stood a good 6'3 with short jet black hair and piercing green eyes. The only clothes Spencer saw him in were business attire. Some might think that owning a strip club is repulsive and involves illegal activities (drug dealing, Mafia, selling women into prostitution, etc), but Kris took his job seriously. He kept everyone in check, no one got away with stealing his money, and there were **rules**. The number one rule: **Don't touch the merchandise** and yeah you guessed it, the performers were his merchandise. The audience was allowed to touch, but they had to pay up, but there was no kissing or sex. Especially sex. The way that Kris saw it was like this: Sex could equal emotional attachment, and that could make other audience members feel like they're not getting the same amount of attention. Another consequence is if a performer gets pregnant, that meant that he would have to fire the performer and that would cost him money.

A few months ago, Spencer saw on CNN News that there was a body of a young male found Greenwood Lake, wrapped in a black plastic bag with multiple gunshot wounds, his skull was caved in, and his tongue was removed. Even though the case wasn't solved, he was suspicious that Kris was involved **somehow**. Kris isn't the type to get his hands dirty, so the chances of finding evidence of his involvement were slim to none.

From the stage, behind the curtains, Spencer could make out the woman he was arguing with, cash was still stuffed in her cleavage and glitter shorts. She was a cute blond, in her early twenties, and a single mother of a three month old and from what Spencer heard in the dressing room. She was also a recovering alcoholic.

"The new bitch you hired seems to be," she hissed.

"Britney, watch it."

"What? Are you going to fire me? You're little bitch Spencer is stealing the spot light from all of us! Hell, he mind as well be the only act. Ask anyone around here! Go on, ask! Marsha, Eliza, Chloe, Shantell, anyone! It's so obvious you want to fuck him—_slap_"

Spencer flinched.

Kris stood over the blond woman, she sat on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks, and a bright red handprint stained her left cheek. Kris flexed his fingers and took another drag.

"You've said enough. You do not question what I do. _I_ pay you. I practically provide for _you_ and _your_ _child_," he turned to face the other women who happened to be lounging around the club. They were now silent, "Anyone else?"

No reply. Spencer swallowed. He fingered the strap of his duffel bag.

"Amber!"

A petite red head ran to the man's side. "Yes, Boss."

"Go clean that piece of shit up. I can't have her staining my floor."

"Yes."  
The girl helped the other rise from the floor and guided her to the dressing rooms.

Spencer watched as Kris cracked his knuckles and walked to the area where he was and quickly went to the Kris's office, as if he was waiting there the entire time.

"Spencer, may I speak with you in my office for a moment?"

Spencer knew it wasn't his decision to decide. It was a command disguised as a formal question.

"Yes."

"Take a seat."

Spencer looked around the office. It hadn't changed much, the aroma of tobacco is stronger and there are more papers strewn about, but the paint chipping away and dim lighting he could remember when he was first hired.

"So, I'm guessing you heard what was said?"

"Um…I don't…"  
"Don't act Spencer. I know you were watching."

Spencer wanted to sink into a hole.

"Sorry, Boss."  
Kris chuckled and got up from his seat and began pacing around the room.

"You wanted to see me for something?"  
"Oh, uh, yea…I had your money for you," Spencer shuffled around his bag until he found the money.  
Kris tucked the cash in his breast pocket. He found himself smiling at boy. He never thought anybody would intrigue him as much as Spencer. Since he hired the boy he realized that he wasn't the usual runaway, high school dropout, orphaned, and submissive performer. He spoke his mind freely and seemed to know show business quite well. With a little research, Kris learned that he was a former model in Europe, but was born in the suburbs of Las Vegas and later dropped out of the modeling business due to his mother being placed in a mental institution for schizophrenia when he was 18 years old. He moved into a small apartment and was only working at his club to pay rent.

"Hmm…a little low, but understandable. Winter is rolling in so there will be fewer costumers in the upcoming months."

"Okay."

For a while Kris was just staring at Spencer and by the way Spencer was fidgeting Kris assumed that he felt the intensity of it.

"Spencer…do you feel animosity towards the other girls?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Well," he began as he sat at the edge of his desk, "it seems that the other girls feel that I may be treating you too much generosity…showing you too much attention…"  
Spencer flicked his eyes towards his boss.

"Well, I—"

"I think their right."  
You would think Spencer broke his neck, he snapped his head up so fast.

"I…I don't understand."  
Kris pushed himself off the desk and crouched in front of his uneasy employee.

"You must have noticed the way I look at you…the way **most** men look at you."

Spencer **had** noticed, but opted to ignore it. He didn't want to think that his boss was attracted to him.

"You're so beautiful…," he leaned over, suffocating him, he was so _close_. Spencer whimpered a bit as the man placed a few kisses on his ear, "and sexy…" then on his jaw.

Spencer's eyes were screwed shut. His felt like his body just shut down, he couldn't react. _This can't be happening. _

Those gentle kisses turned heated, lips, tongue, and teeth mapped their way down his neck. Meanwhile, Kris's hands didn't want to be left out the action and groped his thighs, pulling him towards his body. The only barrier keeping Kris's hands from his bare skin was his sweat pants and Marilyn Monroe T-shirt J.J. got him for Christmas.

"I thought about this moment for **so** fucking long…"

Once those blood-stained hands begin to pull his sweatpants off Spencer found the courage to try to push at the man's chest.

"Wait…Kris, I can't do this."  
"Come on, baby…" Kris silenced any prepared rejections with his lips, plundering his tongue down the boy's throat. Spencer wanted to puke. He tasted like the inside of a chimney— or at least what he thought it would taste like—ash. He was being crushed under Kris's muscular frame. He tried to get up, but that only made his hipbone press against the obvious erection. He shuddered at the groan that was created, but Kris suddenly jolted off of him.

"Sonofabitch!" He was muffled by his own hand covering his now bleeding bottom lip.

Spencer quickly grabbed his things and raced out the office to the back door.

He didn't feel the rain, he didn't taste the metallic of Kris in his mouth, nor could he hear the worried voices from inside the club. He kept running and finally stopped at a nearby bus stop and cried. There was a numbing ache in his throat.

_There's no way Kris will keep me. _

He ran his fingers through his wet hair. He stared into the street. His pride told him that he could find another job to go along with his job as a dance teacher, but he knew better. He was scum, now. He was tainted. No one was going to hire a stripper and it wasn't like he could leave anyway.

He would have to beg Kris for forgiveness to ensure he would keep his job. But there was a problem:

_My boss is attracted to me. _

_**Author's Note: Good? Yes? No? Review/Comment please? Thanks for the help everyone!**_


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